Very First Stitches
by Maya Sushi
Summary: ...and so they settled down, and put in the very first stitches of their lives. / Trisha and Hohenheim love, because without them, there would be no Elric brothers.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

_**A/N: **_Because they had to be in love first! Or Edward and Alphonse would have never happened! :)

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**Mama's Boy**

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Tiny feet padding across the floors. Hugs and smiles and kisses in abundance. Little giggles and loud angry cries echoing throughout the house. Soft fruit hogging all the space in the refrigerator...

"...only a matter of time before we start talking to each other in baby talk."

"We've already been talking to your stomach that way."

"Who knows? Maybe our tough little man won't appreciate the baby talk."

"I still think it'll be a little _woman, _and we'll have to name her after you because she'll be your spitting image. Completely lovely."

She gave a contemplative look for a whole moment before laughter overtook her. Trisha placed her hands gently upon the swell of her hugely distended stomach, craning her neck down in her child's direction and humming smoothly, rubbing smooth circles across the skin. She shook her head, whispering a quiet, conspiratory, "Nonsense, you're gonna be my little man. I know it."

Her glance up in her husbands direction was filled with mock suspicion, in case he was eavesdropping on their conversation, it wouldn't do to have him butting in on their talk, "and you'll look just like daddy," she smiled, picturing her little golden baby, stumbling along, "you'll be so handsome."

Casting a quick look around the newly furnished nursery and watching as Hohenheim added the last strokes of red paint to the walls, she muttered a final small addition to her theory.

"–but you'll be a mama's boy."

Trisha smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own FMA in any way. (Rhymin') :D

_**A/N:**_ This one's a little weird (awkward, just doesn't flow right, I think), but oh well~

I like the thought of some of these being like... hidden-angst stories. Like the mama's boy thing, yeah, just think about it, it gets angsty after a few good seconds of contemplation. This too, because... Well, I'll continue this author's note in a moment!

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**He Will**

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Van Hohenheim stood in the center of their new nursery, betwixt the freshly painted red walls, and admired all of their hard work. With a baby on the way, everything had been terribly hectic, but this room had been a more pleasant experience. Things seemed to have mellowed out now that Trisha was confident they had a proper plan for the rest of their lives.

But, that was just it, _they _didn't. _She _did. For the rest of _her _life, and he wanted one too – so badly – wanted to die; with her.

He didn't want to outlive his own child.

With a scowl he attempted to steer his thoughts in another direction, however fruitless the effort may be.

He was so sure that her womb would grant them a beautiful baby girl, he knew it, but for some reason Trisha insisted on always speaking to them as if she already saw that they were her "little man". He hoped she wouldn't be too embarrassed when she had a daughter, but he'd warned her not to go making silly assumptions It wasn't that he didn't want a son – he was sure that every man had that want somewhere deep inside of him, or, rather, not so deep – but maybe he didn't. Not really. At least not now, the country would be in turmoil at some point or another, and a daughter would be easier to keep safe. To protect.

He sincerely hoped that she looked like Trisha, he wasn't quite prepared for anything so cute and sweet as a child to be running around looking like _him._

_ What will we name her? _He mused silently his hand idly trailing across the cherry-glazed wood of the crib. It wasn't long before a million eager voices all bursting forth with eager ideas come swarming through his mind. He clenched his fist tightly.

Normally he would not despair over talking with the people of Xerxes, but at this moment – right now – he did not want a remind of who (what) he really was. He wanted to be Van Hohenheim, soon-to-be father and man in love, and that's all...

(Perhaps Van Elric, it would be a name granted to him then by someone he adored, rather than...)

...that's it. Nothing more.

_Jane! Vanessa. Alexia... Elzabeth... Ansley..._ He shook away the voices and released his firm grip on his child's new bed. He inspected the place he had been holding, checking for any imperfections that he may have caused, but all seemed well.

Another glance around the room made him sigh in exasperation once more. When Trisha had suggested they color the nursery red he had been shocked, but she was so adamant he could not deny her. A pastel blue or light yellow would have been preferable, perhaps a lavender. A color that was unisex, yet still leaned further toward femininity in its softness. Not the bright, glaring red that adorned the walls now. But she was positive her "little man" would love it.

He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips with the thought. She was so adorable, ever excited about her impending newborn. She could go on about her hopes for hours, and he would still be content just to sit and listen to her forever.

He wished that he could, but eventually, she would waste away.

He needed to stop, stop bringing his thoughts back to the same place. He would deal with that when the time came, but right now he had to focus on their life. Together.

"Van? Honey, what are you doing out of bed, it's late."

Hohenheim turned where he stood, catching sight of his sleepy wife perched carefully just beyond the door frame, encased by the darkness of the hall. Even in shadow she was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

"Trisha, I couldn't sleep, you should go back to bed. I'll be there soon."

She said nothing in return, sinking into the room and placing a hand on her shoulder; the other rested gently upon the swell of her belly. She wordlessly joined him in watching the empty cloth of the blankets within the crib. They were silent for a long time, and Hohenheim gently lifted his hand to place it atop hers.

"What if they don't like me?" he murmured, after a long moment.

His eyes shut tight against the sight of the nursery. He could hear a thousand voices whispering inside of him, but he couldn't make out any of the words. "What if they hate me?"

A soft caress of his cheek brought his eyes back open once more, and he found her smile immediately in the soft illumination of the room. "I love you," she whispered, leaning upward to touch her lips to his for a lingering second. His eyes shut once more, reveling in this (how long can it last?) moment, and finding her absent long before he was prepared for her to be gone.

His golden eyes slit open to find her green gaze amorous and attentive before him, "And _he, _he'll love you too."

She hugged him then, and he gripped her tight, his nose buried deep in the warm comfort of her hair, the mellifluous sense of her being, "will he?" He asked, breathing her in, savoring her, "will he?

"He will," she sighed into his neck, her lips ghosting over his skin, barely touching, "he will. He will. He _will. _I _promise."_

_ …_

"You will, won't you little man? Yes, you will..."Trisha smiled against the warm nearness of her husband, her lover, and with a great sigh, he pulled her closer. "He will."

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_**A/N: **_Because he WILL hate you! Hahaha! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_Gasp! Update! ... Hello!_

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**Very First Stitches**

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**Rocking Chair**

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She grabbed at his wrists before he could even complete his train of thought. His palms were a hair's breadth away, skin almost touching. The air came exhaling out of his lungs in one big _whoosh. _He rose his gaze incrementally, attempting to peer up at her without actually having to face her completely. His mouth settled its way into a concerned frown, sensing her displeasure.

_'Why?'_ He thought immediately. Leave it to him to mess something up and not even know what he'd done wrong.

"Oh, quit looking like that you silly man," Trisha Elric smiled down at him, not removing her hands from his skin. Rather, she twisted her own palms around to lie within her husband's, before pulling one up to rest against her cheek. Satisfied that she had now conveniently freed one of her hands, she nudged her fingers beneath Van's chin, careful to watch for his pride, his easily wounded center of grief, his omnipresent guilt. She levered his stricken expression up before her for inspection, gently pressing her forehead against his own, her lips prescribing a petal-soft kiss atop his nose as a remedy, "you look like I caught you kicking a puppy. You certainly haven't done anything wrong, though."

Her tone was light, mindful, wary. She never pressed too far, never imposed, yet her love blanketed him. He was wrapped fully in her all encompassing warmth, and he felt the smile pull across his wide mouth before he could even comprehend it.

"Trisha?" He inquired in a gentle whisper; words too loud would shatter this moment, it was so soft. "What?"

Her hand returned to her cheek, covering his where it still sat, his thumb skirting smooth across her cheekbone. She gave the back of it a gentle pat as she turned her face to lean further into his touch.

"Always worrying," Trisha chided, clicking her tongue and placing another soft kiss in the center of his palm. His eyes slid shut, and a smile pulled softly at her lips. He could feel it in his hand, and he smiled back tenderly, "you didn't do anything," she repeated, "just …" A quiet fell over her, before she continued in an almost comically conspiratory whisper, "no _alchemy."_

Van's eyes opened slowly, watching as his wife placed a second soft kiss against the inside of his palm. He sat, transfixed, as she spoke again, words almost inaudible to his ears, but he could feel each one like a song against his skin.

"This life we're building together, it's not gonna be easy," Trisha intoned, nuzzling against Van's hand with a hum of contentment. She reached up and grabbed his wrists once more, bringing her lover's hands between them to lie upon her swollen belly, large with child: their little man, "but we'll build it. _With our own hands."_

Overcome with emotion, Van heaved in a great breath, pressing his face hard into Trisha's neck, and inhaling her scent like it were a drug. He felt as the impossible odds in his mind … It was all so scary, so unlikely, but she was so sure everything would be okay. He had to try, at least, to think so too. Anyway …

_"I love you," _Trisha breathed, the words hot in his ear as she embraced him even tighter, clutching to him impossibly tight.

His lips skimmed across her collarbone, his hands coming around her to return her embrace with an almost desperate fervor. He felt her sigh around him, amazed that this woman loved him, that this moment was his.

He chuckled suddenly against the skin of her bare shoulder, surprising even himself, a bit, "if you want a rocking chair _that _badly, I suppose I'll have to try to recall how to use a hammer properly, won't I?"

"That's the spirit!" She called out with a laugh.

Then she pulled his head up and kissed him.


End file.
